SPN Ficlet: November 24, 2005
Rating: G (well, one bad word), Gen.
Word Count: 508
Summary: Sheer sentimental nonsense.
November 24th, 2005
by CaffieneKitty
- - -
After the fifth time Sam changed the radio station during a commercial, Dean knew something was up. They'd been on the road a week or so after the thing in Colorado with the Wendigo, no hint of where dad might be. Sam had been mopier than usual today; agitated, twitchy.
"At Marathon Electronics, we wish all our past and future customers the happiest of Thanksg-" Sam turned the radio off completely. Dean glanced over, but didn't reach for a tape, left the radio off. As they drove, the wipers swept away a sparse fall drizzle.
"Jess-" began Sam, and Dean focussed on his brother's voice without more than a slightly raised eyebrow, eyes not leaving the road. Sam hadn't said her name while he was concious for over a week. Whatever he was ready to say, Dean was listening.
"Her folks, they live in the next county," Sam eventually said.
Dean waited until the silence got too long. "You wanna go-"
"No. No," said Sam. "After the funeral, it... no."
The wipers squeaked in the quiet.
"We- Jess had-" Sam took a breath. "I was supposed to meet her parents for the first time this weekend. She always went home for... I was going to ask...." Sam's voice wound down to a cold stall.
Dean looked over. Sam was slouched in the seat, arms wrapped around his torso, staring out the passenger window at the autumn-rusted trees along the roadside verge.
"It's nothing. It's stupid. Forget it." Sam muttered. As they passed a closed mall with a giant inflatable pilgrim on the roof, Sam turned away from the window and frowned down at the floorboards.
The tank was full, but Dean pulled the car into the next gas station that was open, went inside for a while and came back out with a bag.
"Uh. Here," said Dean, pulling the door shut behind himself and passing the bag to his despondent brother.
Sam pulled out a huge bag of potato chips that claimed to taste like roast chicken gravy, a couple bottles of cranberry juice and a vacuum-sealed package.
"Turkey Jerky?" Sam said dubiously.
"Yeah. Cool, hunh. If you want brussel sprouts though, you're gonna hafta find 'em yourself."
Sam furrowed his brow at Dean, then stared down into the bag in his lap.
"Look, Sam," said Dean. "I know that's not the point. I can't tell you how sorry I am about Jess. But I just wanted to let you know... I uh." Dean paused awkwardly. "I'm thankful you're my pain-in-the-ass little brother."
Sam sat looking at Dean a second, and for that second Dean was certain he'd done the exact wrong thing, that Sam was going to break down right there in the car in front of the gas station. Then a corner of Sam's mouth quirked slightly. "Was that a chick-fli-"
"Don't say it Sam," Dean said, starting the Impala.
"No, no, that was past chick-flick. That was a greeting card moment." Sam half-smiled. "Dean, I'm touched."
Dean smirked and pulled the car out of the gas station onto the empty holiday street. "Yeah, well, you've always been a little touched. Pass the Turkey Jerky, turkey."
- - -
(Happy Thanksgiving, all you Americans!)
Word Count: 508
Summary: Sheer sentimental nonsense.
November 24th, 2005
by CaffieneKitty
- - -
After the fifth time Sam changed the radio station during a commercial, Dean knew something was up. They'd been on the road a week or so after the thing in Colorado with the Wendigo, no hint of where dad might be. Sam had been mopier than usual today; agitated, twitchy.
"At Marathon Electronics, we wish all our past and future customers the happiest of Thanksg-" Sam turned the radio off completely. Dean glanced over, but didn't reach for a tape, left the radio off. As they drove, the wipers swept away a sparse fall drizzle.
"Jess-" began Sam, and Dean focussed on his brother's voice without more than a slightly raised eyebrow, eyes not leaving the road. Sam hadn't said her name while he was concious for over a week. Whatever he was ready to say, Dean was listening.
"Her folks, they live in the next county," Sam eventually said.
Dean waited until the silence got too long. "You wanna go-"
"No. No," said Sam. "After the funeral, it... no."
The wipers squeaked in the quiet.
"We- Jess had-" Sam took a breath. "I was supposed to meet her parents for the first time this weekend. She always went home for... I was going to ask...." Sam's voice wound down to a cold stall.
Dean looked over. Sam was slouched in the seat, arms wrapped around his torso, staring out the passenger window at the autumn-rusted trees along the roadside verge.
"It's nothing. It's stupid. Forget it." Sam muttered. As they passed a closed mall with a giant inflatable pilgrim on the roof, Sam turned away from the window and frowned down at the floorboards.
The tank was full, but Dean pulled the car into the next gas station that was open, went inside for a while and came back out with a bag.
"Uh. Here," said Dean, pulling the door shut behind himself and passing the bag to his despondent brother.
Sam pulled out a huge bag of potato chips that claimed to taste like roast chicken gravy, a couple bottles of cranberry juice and a vacuum-sealed package.
"Turkey Jerky?" Sam said dubiously.
"Yeah. Cool, hunh. If you want brussel sprouts though, you're gonna hafta find 'em yourself."
Sam furrowed his brow at Dean, then stared down into the bag in his lap.
"Look, Sam," said Dean. "I know that's not the point. I can't tell you how sorry I am about Jess. But I just wanted to let you know... I uh." Dean paused awkwardly. "I'm thankful you're my pain-in-the-ass little brother."
Sam sat looking at Dean a second, and for that second Dean was certain he'd done the exact wrong thing, that Sam was going to break down right there in the car in front of the gas station. Then a corner of Sam's mouth quirked slightly. "Was that a chick-fli-"
"Don't say it Sam," Dean said, starting the Impala.
"No, no, that was past chick-flick. That was a greeting card moment." Sam half-smiled. "Dean, I'm touched."
Dean smirked and pulled the car out of the gas station onto the empty holiday street. "Yeah, well, you've always been a little touched. Pass the Turkey Jerky, turkey."
- - -
(Happy Thanksgiving, all you Americans!)